Coming Home
by TheOneWithTheBook
Summary: Hunger Games AU. Part of the torture of The Games is not knowing if the ones you care for will come home. M for violence


Reaping day always sucked. It was bad no matter how old they were, whether it be twelve, sweating through their shirt at your first ever reaping, praying their name doesn't get called, or thirty-something, watching the kids they watched grow up, knowing one of them is going off to die a gruesome death, everyone hated the reaping.

But it's the worst kind of reaping day was when the kid in question is a month shy of eighteen, nearly free of this, but not quite safe. And that's what Bucky Barnes is. Just three weeks and he would have been free, free from any chance of being reaped, of going to the Games. Maybe he would have still died a horrific death, whether it be of slow starvation or in a mining accident, but he wouldn't have died with a knife at his throat, or an axe in his back, and that's what he was scared of. He would never admit it out loud, but the infamous ladies' man James Barnes was terrified.

Steve wasn't.

Bucky didn't know how his tiny, loud-mouthed best friend wasn't as scared as him. Stevie couldn't have weighed more than ninety pounds soaking wet, and he'd been in more than enough fights with the town kids, who beat up any poorer kids they could find, to know that he couldn't defend himself. Bucky thought his fight or flight mechanism was broken, the amount of times he's seen Steve take punch after punch because he kept getting back up. He wouldn't run, and he wouldn't last ten seconds in the Games, Bucky thought to himself. That hadn't stopped Stevie going to the Justice Building and getting grain for them to live on, adding his own name to the reaping ball more times than he should have. Bucky had been furious, even though he'd done it himself- Steve had tried to work out how many times each of their names had been entered, tried to calculate if the odds _were_ in their favour, and Bucky had never let him say it. It didn't matter about the math, the odds were _never_ in their favour, it was just how things were.

It was that thought that was prominent in Bucky's head as they lined up in front of the stage. It didn't matter what that peacock of a woman up on the platform said, the odds were not in their favour, because someone was going to die, and it could be someone he knew, and _oh god he couldn't breathe-_

He heard a cough, and looked over a few rows, and he saw Steve looking at him pointedly. Not now, he seemed to be saying, just wait. So Bucky did, taking deep breaths like Steve did when he had an attack and couldn't breathe and they couldn't afford the fancy inhalers the capitol made. And he looked up at the stage, pretending to listen to the speech the woman with pink hair was making. His ears, however, pricked up as she reached in to the reaping ball to pick the female tributes name. Please don't be Tasha, he prayed, eyes tight shut, please don't be Rebecca or Maria or-

"Peggy Carter!"

Oh. Oh no. Bucky's break caught, and he immediately looked to Steve, who looked like he's been punched in the gut. Not their Peggy, who once hit a guy in the nose for making a move on her sister Sharon, Sharon, who was sobbing desperately in to Peggy's shoulder while their friend tried to look unafraid, while the cameras ate it up. The Capitol loved drama, Bucky remembered detachedly.

Peggy made her way up on to the stage, chin up and eyes dry, and Bucky knew she'd be a tough one. Her odds of making it home would be high, he decided, with the right weapon, and that eased the knot in his stomach slightly. She could come home. He didn't even notice the woman on stage step up to the other ball, didn't see her reach in and snag a piece of paper. He didn't notice until he heard her high, irritating voice call out;

"James Barnes!"

He raised his head, slowly. Surely he'd heard wrong? It couldn't be him, there was no way. But everyone was looking at him, was moving aside to part the crowd so he could make his way up to the stage. He did, just like he was expected to do, and he thought he heard Rebecca, his poor little sister, screaming as he did, even though he couldn't hear so well through the blood he could feel roaring in his ears. He climbed the stairs and made his way over to where Peggy and the woman were stood, and Christ, he'd forgotten about Peggy, who was looking at him with the first break in her composure he's ever seen, because _they knew each other_, and one of them was going to _die_, but now that woman was talking to him, and asking him what he name was, even though he damn well heard her read it our moments before.

"Bucky Barnes," he told her, even though he knew he was talking to the Capitol, not her. He summoned a half smile, like the one he smiled at the girls in school, as if he was careless and not so scared he wanted to bawl like a baby. Instead, he saw the pink haired woman swoon slightly, and felt the eyes of a thousand strangers staring at him, calculating his odds, sizing him up.

"Well," She simpered, "before we move on, we must ask; are there any volunteers?"

There was a beat of silence, and then;

"I volunteer."

His head snapped around so fast he was surprised his neck didn't break, but he didn't care because he knew that voice, and he knew exactly which little punk spoke up, and he wasn't surprised when he saw Steve surrounded by Peacekeepers as they lead him out of the crowd, and up towards the stage, but God, he was angry because what the _hell_ did he think he was doing, Bucky was not going to let anyone die for him.

"Steve, what do you think you're doing?" Bucky nearly grabbed him, and he wanted to shake him hard enough that he snapped out of this hero-complex thing he had going on but Steve looked set and his blue eyes were grim. He didn't speak, just stood there as the woman read through procedure, unaccustomed to the idea that someone would actually volunteer to die, and comes to the conclusion that Steve Rogers is, in fact, the new District 12 tribute.

They have to fight Bucky off the stage.

Later, they let the tributes family and friends in to the Justice Building. To wish them good luck, the mayor told them with a false smile. To say their last goodbyes, Bucky thought numbly as he made his way to the room with Peggy inside it. The others went to go and see Steve, but Bucky had to see Peggy, had to tell her about something important.

They opened the door for him, and Peggy was sat on a red couch, alone. Bucky didn't even think before he opened his arms to her, and she fell in to them gratefully- she wasn't crying, but it was obviously an effort not to.

"He wants to save everyone," was all Peggy said. Bucky sighed.

"Yeah, I know. Dumb kid."

She lifted her head, brown hair a mess and her eyes full of tears that she would not cry. "Bucky, he's going to come home."

He shook his head, heart already empty. "Nah, Peggy, they'll rip him apart."

"I'm going to get him home."

Bucky looked at her, really looked at her, and saw fire burning there. "How?"

"I'll make the Capitol love him. They'll lap him up once I've finished. I promise you right now, Bucky Barnes," Her voice rose, and so did she, "I will get Steven Rogers home alive."

Bucky didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything, just held her to his chest and stroked her hair, while his heart ached, because one of them was going to die, and he was already grieving.

He had been ready to deliver a speech to Steve, inspire him, had wanted to act light-hearted like Bucky always did. He didn't expect himself to walk through the door, see Steve, and fall to pieces.

He couldn't help it. One minute he was calm, at least on the outside, and the next, he was holding his best friend tight to his chest and trying to hold back harsh, heaving sobs that were threatening to overwhelm him.

"You stupid, stupid kid," he choked, and Steve just leaned in to the embrace.

"I had to Buck. I couldn't save Peggy from this, but I can damn well save you."

Bucky laughed bitterly. "But now we have to watch Stevie, and I don't think that's any better."

Steve looked down. "Please don't let me leave with you mad at me."

More tears welled up, and Bucky forced them down. "Never pal, never. I'm with you till the end of the line, Steve."

His friend looked up at him at his last words, and Bucky could see in his eyes that he thought it was.

They kept playing the Reapings.

It was all anyone could talk about, unless Bucky was around, then everyone would stop, and look at the ground, as if he's lost something, like the kid he loved like a brother was dead already. Not that anyone blamed him, they didn't. The rules about volunteers were bizarre and obscure, and no one could remember a time in living memory when anyone from District 12 has volunteered, until now. But Bucky blamed himself, and he didn't care if it was irrational, which he told Natasha every time she came and told him to snap out of it.

It was a good thing school was cancelled during the games, because Bucky spent every minute locked away in the house he shared with Steve and Rebecca, eyes locked on the television screen, waiting. Watching to see him one more time, and he got a look, during the parade. He had to suffer through eleven other districts, and it wasn't just him holding his breath. Rebecca and Tasha and Sam were there, grim-faced and observant.

They saw the horses first. Coal black, as always, and then the carriage, which was as black as Bucky imaged the soul of President Snow to be. He let out a hoarse cry at the sight of the two teenagers as they emerged in to the light, and leant forward, as if he was moving physically closer. Both of them were in coal black tunics, dusted in black dust and had swirling red patterns painted on their skin. Not as impressive as the shining gold garments of the District One tributes, but a damn sight better than any other District Twelve costumes they had ever seen, but Bucky didn't care because he could see his best friend, his Steve, and yeah, he looked terrified and he was holding Peggy's hand just as tight as she was holding his but that didn't matter because he was alive, they were both _alive. _But then, the realisation hit him, that they weren't going to be, and he stood up abruptly and left the room, unable to take any more of this, when he knows in a few weeks they won't be celebrating people, they'll be shipping home bodies.

After the opening ceremony, it was the interviews. Bucky couldn't help himself; he was sizing up the tributes, deciding which ones he would have taken out first. When he thought about it, a stab of pain hit him in his chest, because _he should have be there_, not little Steve, who walked out on stage wearing an all-black suit and looking smaller than ever in front of that huge audience. He played the audience well, made them laugh, but Bucky knew they'd forget him, silly, vapid things that the capitol citizens were, and no one would remember him except as another kill.

Until Peggy stepped up to the stage, and a hush fell over the audience, because so what if she was from the mining District, she was gorgeous, with her hair falling over her shoulders, and a black gown cut low over her chest. She looked beautiful and ruthless, and she talked like she looked. She was blunt almost to the point of hostility, until the host asked her about home, and her expression softened. Bucky's heart broke at the sadness in her eyes.

"Do you have someone special waiting for you at home?" The man on stage pressed her.

"He's not at home."

The studio went silent for a moment, and then the Capitol erupted with noise. The camera cut away to Steve, who was sat there blushing up to the roots of his hair, and Bucky could see that Peggy, for all her attempts to look forlorn, couldn't hide the triumph in her eyes. She had put Steve on the radar, and made sure that no one would forget Steve Rogers from District 12.

A few days later, the tributes training scores got released. Peggy got a ten, and Bucky could feel her triumph- she was the highest scoring girl, and matched the highest male. He could just imagine her, laughing at her opponents, the Careers, who spent their whole lives training for the Games, only to be bested by a girl from Twelve.

Steve got an eight, and Bucky worried, because now, with Peggy's actions and his above average training score, Steve Rogers was a target, and from what he could guess, those kids didn't often miss.

That was the first night Bucky woke up in the night, drenched in sweat, after a nightmare where he saw his best friend, covered in blood, eyes empty. It wasn't the last night.

They fought at the Cornucopia, and Bucky wanted to throttle Peggy Carter as she dragged Steve in to the fray. Bucky's knuckles were white from where he was gripping the sides of his chair, and Rebecca had her hands over her eyes, unwilling to watch, but also unwilling to leave. Tasha pretended she was unaffected, but Bucky can see the blood on her fingers where she chewed her fingernails down too far.

He had barely dared to hope that Steve would survive the bloodbath, but as the camera caught a particularly vicious shot of him ramming a knife in to a boy from District Two who was about to behead Peggy, Bucky's spirits lifted, especially as Peggy dragged him away, in to the dark green foliage that surrounded the blood-soaked clearing. They had weapons, and supplies, and Bucky could feel the collective mind of his District thinking with him, thinking _you can win._

And maybe they could. After all, Steve was a pretty smart kid when he needed to be, and Peggy, as the footage of the initial fighting showed, was vicious, proficient with any weapon she could lay her hands on, ruthlessly slaying 4 tributes single-handedly before disappearing with Steve in to the treeline. She could keep him safe, Bucky thought fiercely, she could keep him alive.

Then again it wasn't like he was having much trouble himself. He's killed two tributes while watching Peggy's back. Stevie was a murderer, was Bucky's uneasy thought, and it must have shown in his face, as Natasha said harshly;

"Bucky, don't" She was right. He shouldn't torture himself with thoughts like that- it was the Games, so normal laws didn't apply. But he couldn't imagine Steve seeing it that way.

They didn't bother with alliances.

Bucky hadn't moved from his chair for almost three days, and he couldn't even feel the hunger that he was sure should be gnawing at his stomach from lack of food. That should have warned him, but, as he snapped at Natasha every time she tried to lecture him, he _would not_ eat until Steve and Peggy did. And so far, they weren't.

It was, after all, the Hunger Games.

None of the Tributes had food- plenty of water, but not a morsel of food between them. Steve and Peggy had washed in a spring earlier in the day, and Bucky could count every single rib they had, and he was starting to worry, because God, they were so thin anyway, and now they were _emaciated_. The only positive thing about the food shortage was that the other Tributes were dropping like flies. The Gamemakers had to be panicking, trying to make The Games more interesting, and they were failing, miserably. In fact, the only reason why they hadn't forced the remaining Tributes left together to fight it out yet that Bucky could think of was the love story Peggy was telling.

Steve and Peggy laughing in the face of death together. Sharing water, holding each other at night, the occasional long, sweet kiss, and the audience were lapping it up. Capitol reporters were in the District now, asking questions, and Bucky and Natasha played the romance card up to its limit, talking about how it was so obvious to the rest of them but Steve, poor Steve was so blind and now it was too late for them both. They must have done well, and Tasha's "crying" must have worked the way it was supposed to, because later that night, Peggy and Steve received a gift- food, brought down by a shining silver parachute. They ate like they might never see food again, and Bucky felt like crying, because they might not.

It took less time than Bucky had anticipated for the Gamemakers to get bored. The Games had been a flop, and if the finale wasn't excellent, someone would have to pay.

It took place in a clearing surrounded by woods, and Steve and Peggy were outnumbered. They'd been forced there by a stampede of chattering insects that had devoured everything in their path, and found the two remaining Tributes from District One, and the final Tribute from Four waiting for them, ready to defend themselves. Steve and Peggy held up well, considering there were only two of them- Peggy attacked with everything she had, killing the female District One Tribute with one quick stab of her dagger to the girl's throat, and Bucky found out how Steve got that 8 in training. Not only was he adept with the sickle he's picked up by the Cornucopia, which was keeping the Tribute from Four at bay, but he was also doing pretty well with the shield he had over his left arm. Bucky was literally on the edge of his seat, hands clenched so hard on the arms of his chair that he could feel the deep grooves that had formed turn in to wounds, felt his blood spill, and just kept praying _oh Lord don't let Stevie be next, don't let Steve bleed next, don't let him die, please- _

Steve didn't die next.

The boy from District One had suddenly lashed out at Peggy's feet with a branch he wrenched from a tree, and, as she stumbled, he lashed out, lightning fast, and buried his dagger in her chest. Bucky, sat safe at home, let out a hoarse cry and fell to his knees in from of the screen, and he heard Natasha scream all the way from her house down the street.

Peggy didn't scream. She looked down at the growing red stain on her chest, the light dying in her eyes, and with her last, shaking breath, flung her dagger at the Tribute. Aim true to the last, it hit him in the throat, and he spent his last moments breathing in his own blood. He died before Peggy did. She was still breathing, still holding on, and Bucky heard Rebecca moan behind him, as if she was asking, _why won't she just let go?_ Bucky knew. Steve wasn't safe yet, and Peggy wouldn't rest until she knew he was.

Steve had tear tracks on his face. The other tribute, the one from Four, decided to taunt the smaller boy, and Bucky, with a surge of inhuman fury, wanted him dead.

"You sad about your little girlfriend twelve?" He mocked, "Sad she's gonna die?"

It was a deadly mistake. Steve attacked with a yell, the fact that he was smaller and weaker no object any longer. He had rage on his side, and it seemed to be working for him. He slashed at his opponents face, leaving a long, wide gash that stretched from the boy's forehead, across his left eye and down to his right jawbone. The Tribute bellowed in rage, and knocked Steve's sickle away, punching him so hard he fell. Then, clambering on top of him, the boy sneered.

"Any last words?"

Steve didn't need last words. His shield had been forgotten, and it turned in to his weapon as he rammed it up under the bigger boy's chin, over and over again. His jaw must have cracked, and he rolled off Steve, clutching his face. He was bent over, facing the ground, and Steve, with murder and pain in his eyes, stood up and hit the Tribute as hard as he could over the head, once, twice, three times. Bucky saw the bright white colour of bone as the boy's skull was exposed, and then saw the brain that splattered over the ground, and over his friend. A canon shattered the sudden silence, and Steve stood for a moment, waiting for home, waiting for the voice telling him he was safe-

Bucky saw the moment when he realised what the lack of those things meant.

He rushed over to Peggy, gathered her in his arms, and her eyes fluttered open. "Oh, thank God," she said faintly, "I would have murdered you if you'd died."

Steve was crying brokenly, pressing his hands to her wound as if he could press the life back in to her body. "Peggy, no, please don't-"

"One of us had to win Steve. I'm glad it's you." With that, Peggy took one last, shuddering breath, and died, with a look of faint satisfaction on her pale face. Steve's howl was drowned out by cheering crowds in the capitol, but the heartbreak was evident in his face. It must have broken the heart of every person watching.

It broke Bucky's. He slumped back, head in his hands as he crouched on the floor. It was over, and Steve was safe, he told himself. Steve was fine.

Steve wasn't fine. Bucky met him at the station, and as he swept his friend in to a crushing hug, he could feel every bone in the kid's body, he was still so skinny. Not only that, but when he pulled back with the ghost of a smile on his lips, his eyes had a haunted look to them, that told Bucky that whoever had got off the train, it wasn't the friend who had left on it weeks before.

And by the looks of it, that friend wasn't going to come back. Steve, Bucky and Rebecca moved in to a house up in Victors Village, filled with luxuries and money, and Bucky would have given it all away to get the old Steve back. The one who didn't sleep with a knife next to him, the one who didn't wake up screaming and begging Peggy to wake up. Natasha told him uneasily that it might never get better, that The Games might stay with Steve forever. Secretly, Bucky agreed. Your friend dying in front of you would be a hard thing to forget.

But they try to move on, and Bucky tried to ignore the circles under his best friend's eyes, and his voice, scratchy and broken from screaming in the middle of the night. He ignores it all, until one night, Steve appears at the door of his room, and looks at Bucky with pain evident in his expression. "Can I?"

And Bucky moves over so Steve can climb in, just like he used to when they were kids and one of them had a nightmare, and he can't help thinking that maybe part of Steve was here, home and alive just like Peggy promised.

But Steve Rogers had not come home, and everyone knew it.


End file.
